[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart (II)

[LCP]

Illiiya was cold and heavy in Ithelus’ hands. Her clothes had been marked by Indigo’s trampling paws, and he had to pull her slithering out from under the frantic battle before he could lift her up off the ground. Mud and blood made her slip through his grip; seeing the chanting monsters dance closer, he heaved her inert body over his shoulders, turning and scrambling desperately away.

The Nurglings came swarming in behind. Sigurd turned his head as he heard the splintering song grow louder, and watched them wash around his legs like a wave breaking against a crag.

Still worrying at the knight’s gauntlet, Indigo gave a muffled yelp as the first of the creatures leapt on her, its needle claws sinking into her shaggy fur. Scuttling up along her back, it opened its mouth wide, disgorging a stream of stinking bile over her eyes and ears. Others scratched and bit at her paws, the great carrion beetle snapping its mandibles at her dancing forelegs.

Sigurd kicked aside a daemon that came running straight for him, but the majority were streaming past to the other side – converging on Lothar and Leopold. Faulebrand’s son gave a startled cry as one of the creatures leapt on his back, twisting and jerking as he tried to dislodge it. Lothar gave a savage shout, lashing out at the babbling beasts with a wild sweep of his sword. They hopped nimbly out of its path, and came surging forwards once again.

A heavy stamp saw off one, sending it rolling in the muck. Another leapt past the soldier’s guard, sinking its claws into his clothes. Scuttling up over his back, it pulled itself up onto his shoulder. As Lothar turned to look at it, its toad-like mouth yawned so wide that its body seemed to hinge in half, revealing a great semicircular grin of yellow, fish-like fangs. Tiny hands seized Lothar’s ears, and the jaws closed with a sharp snap.

His scream horribly muffled by the thing that now clung like a limpet to his face, Lothar staggered back, falling headlong into the mud. Blood was streaming from beneath the vice-like bite, a disquieting quantity of blood. The Nurgling showed no sign of letting go.

More of the little beasts were swarming Mils, over in the direction of the barrow. Over the broken stones of the entrance, the remains of the tree still shivered and shook with peristaltic convulsions, bulbous shapes struggling in the filth.

OOC:

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To Pieter and anyone else who can use Heal: the Nurgling being on Lothar's face is just flavour; feel free to pull it off as part of a Heal check.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

As the tide of demons breaks upon them, Indigo looks oddly calm. The blood on her face mingles with the blue dye in her fur, giving her a demonic countenance of her own. As clawing nurglings set upon her, she throws her head in the air:

"ARRRROOOOOOOOOOO!"

The howl is more wolf than hound. Sigurd's stomach clenches.

Then he's under assault. Something vile is puked upon his hound; the elves run away; Lothar falls to the ground.

Sat untouched for 2500 years and you show up six months too late. Another job well done, Waite.

Beating a thing off his leg with his dirk, he runs.

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Sigurd Disengages and runs.

Indigo Disengages and runs.

My preference is that Indigo goes SW after Ithelus, and Sigurd follows him. However, I'm unclear on how many free attacks Disengage spares me from: if going that way is going to incur a pile of attacks, then scrap it. In that case Sigurd runs east (southeast ASAP) and Indigo goes her own way SW.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter lost all his fighting spirit when Lothar went down screaming, a tiny daemon tearing at his face. It was at this point that he knew the battle was lost. He was relieved to see Ithelus grab Illiiya and run, but when the wizard fled as well, a chill ran down his spine - the dog would follow him, and then there would be nothing keeping the knight pinned.

Why didn't I stay in bed this morning?

As he turned to flee, he saw that Leopold was in dire straits. He did not want to be the one to tell Mrs Faulebrand that she had lost her son as well as her daughter. In a moment of insanity, Pieter took the young man by the shoulder and shoved him away from the knight, putting his own body between the two. He raised his sword to catch the knight's attacks.

"Run, Leo, gods dammit! You're not dying today."

oh gods oh gods what the hell am i doing

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Alright, I'm going to do something that isn't covered by the rules. I want Pieter to push or drag Leopold away from base contact with the knight (two squares is enough) and place himself between him and the knight, if possible not in base contact. I'm okay if it takes a full action... The goal is for Leopold to be able to run next round without incurring a free attack from the knight (and if possible, nurglings).

Is that a full or half action? If it's a half, I'll have a Parrying Stance with fries and a Diet Coke, please.

As Indigo's actions come after the knight's, the knight still cannot do anything this round except try to break the grapple, but I'm more worried about getting my ass out of combat next round.

[LCP]

The Nurglings squealed and babbled as Leo was pulled away from them, the one that had been clambering over his shoulders bouncing back into the mud with a heavy plop. Around them, the knot of fighting bodies was splintering apart. Sigurd fled right, Indigo fled left; behind them, hooves churned the rain-sodden earth as Ricard rode for the treeline.

Seeing the squabbling creatures closing in on Mils, one of the villagers came charging to his lord’s assistance, wielding his crossbow like a club. Neither he nor Mils could hit their marks, the Nurglings leaping and rolling from side to side. On the barrow, another rolled from the disintegrating heart of the tree, bloody sap drying like spittle on its gangrenous skin.

The other villagers were taking flight. There was no militia any more, just frightened peasants, running for the trees. In the centre of the rout, the knight stood tall, haloed by flies. His bandages hung in rags; broken links of mail dangled from the joints of his armour, and its plates were caked with mud and blood.

As far above the capering of the Nurglings at his feet as a king above his subjects, the faceless helmet turned slowly to watch Pieter’s wary retreat.

[LCP]

Borne up by a desperate strength, Ithelus didn’t feel Illiiya’s weight on his shoulders. He only ran, his feet squelching in the wet earth as he raced for the shadow of the trees. Jumping over snarled roots without slowing down, he rushed headlong into the forest, leaving the cackling nightmare of the clearing behind.

Bereft of victims, the Nurglings milling about the knight’s boots exploded outwards, cackling as they ran. Four of them chased after Sigurd, calling out in piping voices; the wizard stumbled as one of the vile creatures caught him by the ankle, nearly bringing him tumbling into the mud. Flopping up his leg on a cluster of fat, suckered tentacles, it burbled at him through a lamprey-like mouth, blowing thick bubbles of greenish mucus between its rows of teeth.

The others had surged back towards Mils and the crossbowman who had come to his aid, descending on the struggling Hohlesbruckers from behind. Mils heard them coming and lashed out with his sword, keeping the squealing creatures at bay; the peasant beside him was not so lucky. The beetle-like daemon leapt from behind, knocking him staggering forwards as it latched onto his back like a monstrous tick. Before he could recover, the others were swarming over him, dragging him down to drown him in a sea of rotting flesh. Teeth, claws and mandibles glistened with fresh splashes of red as they pulled their victim apart, throwing torn entrails gleefully into the air...

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter almost wet his pants in terror when the knight turned to him. He looked frantically around for allies, only to see Sigurd dragged down by daemons, a peasant torn apart and eaten alive, and Lord Verloren surrounded. Ithelus had disappeared in the woods with Illiiya. As for Lothar, lying in a pool of his own blood at the knight's feet... Was he...?

There was nothing more Pieter could do here.

"Alright, Leo, battle's lost. Come on."

He turned and ran without looking back.

I'm sorry, Lothar.

What was it he had heard from a Morrite priest, again? "Weep for the living, not for the dead."

I'm sorry, Illiiya.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

The journeyman spins as one of the things catches his leg. All he can see is a peasant being dragged down under a pile of nurglings. Another such pile forms around himself.

The battle is lost.

Sigurd has never had children, a fact that he suddenly regrets. But he believes the intelligence he forged for this beautiful pup is a worthy creation. He doesn't want her to die here. Something, at least, should survive him.

He keeps his mouth shut, struggling alone with the demons.

Actions:

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Sigurd attempts to break the grapple.

(1d100)[78] vs. 33 with disease

We've established that Indigo always seems to puppy-guard Sigurd unless ordered otherwise, so I think it would be unbelievable that she flees here. She charges in.

Charging grapple to No. 7 Nurglette. Rolled in OOC.

Indigo, however, feels a curious devotion to this mortal - or a disregard for her own life. Her arc away from the pack of demons has already turned round to rejoin her friend, and when she sees his plight she doubles her speed.

"Indigo--! NO!"

Indi leaps onto the demons, gnashing indiscriminately with her teeth.

[LCP]

Leo opened and closed his mouth soundlessly as Pieter tugged at his arm, staring at the scene in the clearing. His eyes slid over to Sigurd, assailed on all sides by the burbling horde. He hesitated for a moment before his bravery failed him, turning and running for the dark embrace of the trees.

Sigurd threw the clinging creature that had caught hold of him to the ground, only for the others to catch hold of him in a dozen places, pulling him down towards their chattering mouths. Long legs carrying her in six lolloping bounds across the intervening space, Indigo came charging to the rescue, scattering her master’s attackers. Her teeth locked around the tentacled thing that had first caught hold of Sigurd’s leg, pinning it to the ground like a squid caught in the jaws of a whale.

The other Nurglings only laughed and sang. Righting themselves from where they had been thrown by the charging wolfhound, they sprang like fleas for this fresh victim. Others came running up behind, tackling Indigo to the ground as their sharp little teeth bit and gouged. She howled in pain, struggling in the mud with her own blood staining her shaggy coat.

Hearing his familiar’s cry, Sigurd staggered under the weight of the new daemon that clambered over his back, trying with all his strength to throw it off. Before he could catch hold of it, he felt a sudden, tearing pain in his arm. One of the others had seized up a broken shin-bone from the yellowing skeleton of one of the beastmen, pulling it dripping from the waterlogged earth. Now, cackling wildly, it swung from its improvised spear like a child from a low branch of a tree, the jagged end jutting through the torn flesh of Sigurd’s forearm. Blood poured effusively from the wound, pattering over Sigurd’s clothes and painting the thing’s rotten fingers with crimson.

The knight walked among them as if he hardly saw the carrion imps surrounding him, turning away from the direction Pieter and Leopold had run. Dropping his hatchet into the mud, he strode past Sigurd and Indigo, ignoring two Nurglings that danced after him with childish cries for attention. His visor scanned the treeline, and a deep voice called out from within.

“Validus!”

Still trying to fight his way clear of the daemons, Mils’ head snapped round at the sound of the knight’s voice. It was a distraction he could not afford. With a triumphant wail, one of the putrid creatures slammed into his chest like a cannonball, bearing him to the ground to the piping cheers of its brothers. Surging inwards like an ocean wave, the Nurglings converged on their fallen foe.

Somewhere over the cackling of the beasts, Sigurd heard a drumroll of heavy hoofbeats, far off in the forest. It was growing louder.

OOC:

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The camera will return to those who escaped shortly. Consider yourself to be racking up distance from the clearing for each turn that passes.

[Another_Poet]

((after rolls in the OOC thread))

Master Sigurd Waite

Everything happened predictably.

Indigo knocked the demon off of Sigurd. Sigurd's feet couldn't get moving fast enough in the mud. Something scraped his arm to the bone.

He watches in shame as the soul he created is torn apart chunk by bloody chunk. Why was she doing this? How was he worth it?

She wasn't done yet. Dragging her body along the ground, she swerves like a drunkard, snapping her teeth at another nurgling.

Tear-marks are the only clean spots on his face.

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In the OOC thread, Sigurd breaks the grapple; Indigo attacks her previous grapple-victim and misses.

[Another_Poet]

Master Sigurd Waite

It wasn't enough. Indigo is dragged down by chuckling children, with beetle faces and devil claws.

At that moment, something shifts.

Sigurd spent his life completely assured of one thing: his luck. In school he learned there is no proof of Fate. Nonetheless, he privately suspected that he had a purpose.

Even in his most dreadful adventures he was certain he would somehow survive.

But in this moment he feels loss. The silent hand of fate, which had always been his accomplice, suddenly let go and released him. He is no longer Sigurd, the Wizard who will enter the Tower. He is simply a human animal, a bit of meat.

And no miraculous coincidence will save him. Not this time.

His stomach torn out, the wizard falls to his knees. He looks up at the sky. Is there not a force, a guiding principle, that drives even the gods? Why has it forsaken him, when it brought him so far?

"I'll be on the wind soon."

Only now does he understand those words. He sees his father's face, full of alarm, calling him away from the doomed man. His father makes him think of his mother.

How many times had he promised her, before he left, that he would be careful?

He had never once tried to live up to that promise. There was no need: Fate kept him.

But Fate lied.

"Mother, I'm sorry."

And so he dies.

~

Somewhere in Marienburg, a banker's wife frowns. She pauses at her tea, she looks at the portraits above the hutch.

It's been a long time since she's seen her son. For no reason she can tell, she suddenly feels very sad.

Shaking, she sets down her cup. She looks around for the serving girl, but she's alone.

Quietly, she cries.

[Exeson]

Ithelus begins to slow as he delves into the tree line, his breath coming in short gasps. The dead weight of Illiiya on his shoulders made him look over his shoulder to the form of Lothar.

I did the right thing, didn't I? I mean there's no way I could carry him?

He couldn't help but hear that small voice in his head 'and with him now gone there's no one to take Illiiya away from you' Ithelus took another guilty lingering glance before continuing his flight.

[-Sentinel-]

I hate the countryside, thought Pieter, almost tripping on a root for the third time. Hate, hate, hate it.

He had mud up to his knees, had scratched his palms against a rock the last time he had fallen, and at some point had run face first into a large cobweb. Not to mention the branches that were clawing at his cheeks.

They should cut off the whole damn forest and pave it with cobblestones.

He tried to shake these thoughts out of his head. His anger was actually at himself, but he was childishly trying to direct it elsewhere. He had to face it; being one of the last to flee did not make him braver than the others. Lothar, Lord Verloren and Mr Waite were most likely dead, as were many men whose names he had not bothered learning and would probably not even ask about.

In some ways he regretted the four years between Nuln and Delberz, when he never allowed himself to grow attached to people or places. Sometimes he would meet a pleasant village, or a welcoming innkeeper, or a charming young woman, but he made sure to leave them before his liking turned to love. Love was dangerous. Love clouded your judgment and led you to act rashly, stupidly. Love led you to become set in your ways, comfortable with what you had. It made you unable to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. It was an anchor, and a free man like him had no use for anchors.

Yet, in spite of himself, he had come to love his little group. And it was not something that could be undone.

And now, Lothar.........

Pieter tried to wipe his rain-soaked face with his sleeve, but the shirt was itself so wet that it made little difference.

"Ith!" he shouted. "Is she still alive? Let me look at her."

[Exeson]

For a moment Ithelus glares daggers at Pieter, looking possessively at the burden on his shoulders. However, he then realises the blood that has seeped through his clothes and with a furtive glance around he offers Illiiya for Pieter's attention.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter gently laid Illiiya down on some moss.

"I... I don't think Lothar will make it, Ith." His voice was very low, in case the Elven girl could hear them. "As for Lord Verloren and Mr Waite, I wouldn't bet on them either."

He ripped Illiiya's dress open (Now's not the time to throw me your jealous glares, Ithelus), took a poultice and some bandages from his pouch and applied them as fast as he could on the injury, trusting the thief to keep an eye out for more daemons.

"Hmmm. The wound's deep, but it didn't get through the ribcage. She's lost a lot of blood, though."

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Heal 56: (d100)[32]
Poultice: (d10)[9] wounds regained

Superb success! Chris, don't forget to update your sheet, as you often do.

"Don't worry, girl," he said soothingly as he worked, unsure if she could hear him. "You'll live. Try not to move."

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Mnh....

The elven woman came to with a weak, pained groan... her whole body burning like fire. The gash in her flesh worst of all, making it difficult to even breathe.

P... P-pieter? Ith? She groaned with a grimace of pain and a rapidly spreading look of panic Where is everyone else?

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter's mouth opened and closed a few times as he sought the words. He was tempted to lie, if only to keep Illiiya under control, but somehow he suspected she would see right through it; she knew him well enough by now. So he placed a firm hand on her ribs, near the injury, so that she could not rise without excruciating pain.

"We... we had to leave the others behind, Lothar included. More daemons came... We were outnumbered." He shook his head helplessly. "I'm sorry, Illiiya."

[LCP]

Illiiya Only

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Illiiya felt as if she were surfacing through icy water. Before she even knew where she was, she felt a deep sense of mournful melancholy, weighing down on her heart. Fragments of old memories jumbled in the back of her mind, chilling her with a fuzzy sense of loss.

It drained away without ever justifying its existence, evaporating like the memory of a dream. More mundane by far, the pain of the wound rose to replace it.

The rain was pattering overhead, the thick canopy of the Drakwald shielding them from the worst of it. The sky between the branches was dark as slate, the force of the downpour still far from spent.

All around them, the sickly tree-trunks pressed in. Their gnarled boughs closed off the outside world, so that she could barely tell which way they had come – only the whistle of the wind gave her a sense of direction. Rain-spotted brambles swayed in the breeze, the whole forest rustling with it.

Riding on the choppy currents of air, another sound arose. It came from the direction of the clearing: the sound of heavy hoof-beats.

[Exeson]

Ithelus looked up. '****, he's coming' He looked about with panic in his eyes. 'We have to hide.'

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Left.... behind.... She said, not in the building anger one might expect, but with a distant, far off tone of someone who'd had the hope in them drain.

He's gone...

Torn apart by that monster... because you weren't there to help him.

B-be... behind...

Her face had a curious lack of emotion. Like she was dreaming. No fear, no anger... nothing. It was as if she'd gone blank from the inside out, and she didn't have any emotion left in her anymore. She didn't move from her spot.

Lothar...

She vaguely regarded the hoofbeats coming for them, but made no motion to move. She just stared blankly in their direction for a moment and then closed her eyes tightly... a few tears slipping from them... as she waited for the inevitable.

[Exeson]

'Quick, Pieter. We can't outrun him. Help me hide Illiiya' The elf looks around for a suitable hiding spot.

[-Sentinel-]

Ithelus was right...

We can't outrun him.

And if they could not outrun him, neither could Leopold, Hans and the others. They would be butchered as they fled, just like the bandits. The knight would have to be dealt with sooner or later... but this time, they had the advantage of surprise, and Pieter did not intend to waste it.

He took his long brown robe out of his backpack - he had neglected to put it on despite the rain - and threw it over Illiiya. It was not quite the same brown as the mud, but it should do, so long as Illiiya did not move. The poor girl appeared to have shut down anyway.

Then the initiate grabbed his rope, the very fine rope he had taken from the Skaven assassin's dissolved body, and began tying it around one of the smaller tree trunks at a height of two feet. Listening intently to the horse's hoofbeats, he motioned Ithelus to go tie the other end to another tree four yards away.

"We need to cripple its horse, Ith. Here and now. Or the others are dead."

Please, Ithelus. You'll risk your life for Illiiya... You're not as selfish as you pretend to be.

[Exeson]

Ithelus looks at the initiate with angry confusion. 'We just ran away from that bastard!' He looks over to Illiiya. 'Go tie the damn rope yourself'

With a paranoid glance in the direction of the hoof beats Ithelus bundles up Illiiya and tries his best to conceal himself.

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If there is any sort of dense undergrowth then Ithelus will try to hide Illiiya and himself in that. Failing this he will hide Illiiya among the roots of a tree and try to scale it himself.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter began working faster. "Suit yourself," he said without any resentment. He could not blame him. A year ago he would have done the same.

Maybe he's the smart one.

[LCP]

Pulling Illiiya with him, Ithelus threw himself down into the brambles that tangled around the bole of the trees. Ignoring the thorns that scratched at his face and clothes, he rolled down a short slope into the overgrown hollow between the boles of two crooked oaks, lying still with his head below the level of the ragged leaves.

The pounding of hooves was growing louder. Pulling tight the knot around the first tree-trunk, Pieter ran over to the second. Before he could start tying the rope tight, Leopold tackled him to the ground.

”Are you mad?” he heard the younger Faulebrand hiss in his ear. ”You think he can’t kill us without the horse?”

Pieter didn’t have time to reply. The roll of hoofbeats was thunderous now, right on top of them – at the crest of a rise over on their left, he saw the undergrowth sway and rustle. Rain-slick metal glinting in the half-light of the forest, the black charger came bursting through. It galloped between the gnarled roots and twisted branches with an astonishing sure-footedness, not breaking its pace for a moment – in seconds, it had plunged further into the dark, disappearing in a rustling trail of trampled vegetation.

Leopold breathed out, very slowly. If they had caught his attention, Pieter’s trap would have been about twenty feet to the right of where the knight had emerged.

[-Sentinel-]

A wave of relief washed over Pieter when the knight disappeared without stopping.

"Thanks, Leo," he breathed. "I think I was about to commit suicide there." He untied his rope from the tree. "...You're right, I see that would have been stupid and pointless."

He squinted in the direction the knight had gone. Had it truly missed them, or was it simply not looking for them? It certainly had not missed the bandits earlier, save one.

[Exeson]

After the beast had passed Ithelus raises his head. With a grunt he drags himself up from the undergrowth, almost glad that the cold rain has numbed him the the thorns. He untangles himself and Illiiya and returns to Pieter and Leopold.

'What now?' he looks over his shoulder. 'We have to get back before those things spread. Warn people'

[LCP]

Leopold stood up, dusting scraps of leaf litter from his clothes. With a nod of acknowledgement, he gave Pieter a hand to pull him back to his feet and turned to the emerging elves. The young Faulebrand’s face was still pale – his recovery from the violence of the clearing was not as practised as Pieter’s or Ithelus’.

“We have to get back alive, first,” he said. “He missed us once. He might not again.”

From somewhere deeper in the trees, away to their left, there was a faint noise – a human scream. Cut short, it was followed at much greater length by the raucous croaking of crows.

Looking left and right at the forbidding outlines of the trees, Leopold looked at Ithelus with a wan, rain-soaked kind of hope.

“Do you know the way back?”

OOC:

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"You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Leo,"

You know he’s been with you all the time, right?

[-Sentinel-]

“Do you know the way back?”

"No," admitted Pieter. "I can only guess. We came with horses... They must have left hoofprints somewhere."

He walked over to the despondent Illiiya and helped her put on his brown robe to protect her from the rain, for all the good that it did at this point. The robe was almost comically large for her and the hood fell over her face. The initiate put a gentle hand on her shoulder, bent down to her level and removed a stray lock of wet copper hair from her eyes.

"Illiiya, listen to me. Lothar would want you stay with us and be strong. You still have Ithelus and I. If your wound reopens, tell me at once. If you need us to carry you, we'll do it. Just don't give up on us, alright?"

[Exeson]

Ithelus shoots Pieter a glare at the mention of Lothar's name, 'She doesn't need to hear about that right now'.

Looking to Leopold he shakes his head, 'you know as well as I do, Pieter's idea sounds good.'

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

L-lothar....

He died because you were too weak to stop that thing...

I... L...

Just like the other human you were fool enough to care about...

No...

Just like me...

Illiiya looked off into the dark, as if completely and utterly lost... tears welling up in her eyes. Her face stuck right on the edge of cracking, she shook slightly, her eye twitching slightly.

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Inner demons check! (1d100)[1]

Wow... that is the most glorious success on a willpower check I have EVER seen. I may have to have this affect her personality permanently.

Raffy made his own choices. So did Lothar. So will I. And I don't need you anymore.

Instead of the venomous reprisal she was expecting, there was only silence. She was alone.

No. Not alone. Not yet. And as long as she had some fight in her she would protect what was left. Almost when it seemed she might break to pieces, and collapse sobbing to the ground, her face grew still and she took a long, deep breath. The last traces of shaking left her as a still calm overtook her, and buried underneath a steadfast determination.

I can walk. Let's go.